Page 18 of Felix (4 Seats #2)

Chapter Eighteen

Aurora Henry

T he moment Felix’s footsteps die away, I can feel it—the press of silence like a goddamn vice squeezing my chest. The walls inch closer, the shadows in the corners of this Sydney mansion seem to loom larger, and I’m here, trapped in the middle, gasping for air.

“Fuck,” I mutter, dragging my laptop towards me.

My fingers hover above the keys, each one an accusation.

I’ve got to do this—spin the break-in into something digestible for the bloodthirsty public.

They love a good tragedy as long as it’s not their own.

‘Aurora Henry’s Gold Coast Home Invaded,’ I type, the words stark on the screen.

‘Forced to Flee to Sydney.’ Each word is a betrayal, a little piece of my past I’m laying bare for them to pick apart.

I hit send before I can back out, delete the whole damn thing, and pretend it didn’t happen. But it did. And now it’s out there, floating in the digital abyss, waiting for my publicist to stamp it with her approval and push it out into the world .

“Done,” I whisper to myself and grab my phone to make it official.

“Hey,” I say when she picks up, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. “It’s sent. Press release about the break-in. It’s all yours.”

“Good work, Aurora,” she replies, her voice crackling through the speaker. Her tone is too upbeat, too normal for the shitstorm I’m stirring up. “We’ll get it out today.”

“Thanks,” I reply

“Aurora,” she starts, no bullshit, straight to the point. “Why? You swore you’d never live in Sydney again. Is it just the break-in, or is there something else?”

I lick my lips and taste the metallic tang of fear and secrets. “There’s… someone,” I admit, my voice low like confessing a sin.

“Someone?” She pounces on it like a cat, all claws and curiosity. “Who’s got you tossing your vows out the window?”

My heart hammers, traitorous, eager to spill. “Met a man,” I say, and it feels like peeling my skin back. “Decided it was time to stop running from the shadows.”

“Shadows,” she repeats, a note of scepticism threading through her tone. “You mean your demons?”

“Same difference,” I snap, suddenly angry at her, at myself, at the fucking world that keeps turning no matter how much I hurt. “He understands them. Understands me.”

“Understands or exploits?” she fires back, her voice as sharp as broken glass.

“Isn’t it always a bit of both?” I challenge, feeling the edge of every word like I’m dancing on a knife blade .

“Fine,” she relents, but I can tell she’s filing this away. Another piece of the puzzle that is Aurora Henry, one she’ll try to solve later. “Just be careful.”

“Always am,” I lie, because with Felix, careful is a concept that’s lost its meaning. It’s a plunge into the depths, and there is no looking back.

“Alright.” There’s a sigh on the other end of the line, tired, maybe worried, but she knows better than to push. “Take care of yourself.”

“Will do.” But I know I’m in too deep already, drowning in the dark romance I never knew I craved, staring into the abyss and finding it staring right back.

The cardboard caves in under my fist, a pathetic barrier between the past I’m unpacking and me. Each is a Pandora’s box, spilling out old scars alongside faded concert tickets and chipped mugs. My fingers trail over the edges of a photo frame, the glass cool and unforgiving.

“Dammit,” I mutter, the frame slipping from my grasp and shattering against the hardwood. The sound echoes, a sharp reminder that this place is still foreign soil, Sydney’s air too thick with memories I’d rather choke on.

I kick the shards aside, not caring about the bare soles of my feet, the way they dance dangerously close to injury. Let them bleed. It’s nothing compared to the haemorrhage inside my chest every time I think of where I’m now living.

Hours slip by, each one a grudging step forward in a dance I don’t know the steps to. I’m pacing through this graveyard of belongings when the back door clicks shut, a sound that freezes my blood.

Felix .

My pulse ramps up, the staccato beat echoing the rhythm of my life since he stormed into it—chaotic, frenzied, relentless. I stand still, holding my breath, listening for clues in the silence that follows. There’s something predatory in how he moves through our shared space, silent and calculated.

Thud.

A door below, heavy like the lid of a coffin, signals his arrival into the basement. And just like that, the house swallows him whole. My sanctuary becomes a crypt with secrets buried beneath.

“Fuck,” I spit out, the taste of iron spreading across my tongue. I’ve seen what lies beyond that door—hints of a man drenched in darkness, control, and blood.

Am I going down there? The thought scratches at the back of my mind, a clawing need to confront the monster and the man, to see which one surfaces when I look into those pitch-black eyes.

“Stay put,” I growl to myself, but my feet betray me, inching closer to where the earth swallows sinners. I hover at the top of the stairs, my heart a jackhammer against my ribs, fighting the urge to descend into hell or whatever twisted salvation Felix offers.

I’ve never been this curious, and it’s fucking with my head. I know seeing Felix work might trigger me and make my heart race like a goddamn freight train, but something in me can’t resist. I need to see it and understand what kind of man I’m tangled up with.

“Fuck it,” I mutter under my breath, making my way down the dimly lit hallway. The basement door looms before me, heavy and foreboding. I hear faint, muffled noises coming from behind it. My hands tremble as I raise one to knock.

It takes him two long minutes to finally open it, but when he does, I can’t help but freeze for a second. Blood coats his hands, and the sight makes my stomach twist into knots. His dark eyes flicker with concern, and I can tell he’s trying to read me and figure out if I need him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, brows furrowed. “Do you need me?”

“Fuck no,” I snap, swallowing down the fear that threatens to choke me. “I want to watch.”

His expression shifts, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. But then, he steps aside and lets me in.

The moment I step into the basement, my heart feels like it will burst out of my chest. The air is thick with a metallic smell that makes me want to puke. I swallow hard, forcing myself to keep my shit together.

“Jesus Christ,” I whisper, my eyes snapping to the man tied to a chair in the middle of the room. He’s beaten and bloody, his face swollen beyond recognition. The chair bolted to the floor makes it impossible for him even to try to escape.

“What did he do?” I ask Felix, my voice barely audible over the thudding in my ears.

Felix glances at me, then back at the man. “His wife paid me 30k to take care of him,” he says casually, wiping his blood-soaked hands on a rag. “He spent ten years beating her up and wouldn’t give her a goddamn divorce.”

My stomach churns, but a twisted part of me is glad Felix is killing this piece of shit. How fucked up is that? What does it say about me if I’m happy for a man to die at the hands of my psychopathic boyfriend?

“Is that why you’re torturing him instead of just killing him?” I ask, trying to steady my breathing.

“Partly,” Felix admits, a dark smile playing on his lips. “But mostly ‘cause I enjoy it.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, torn between repulsion and a sick sort of fascination.

“Are you sure you want to stay?” Felix asks, looking me straight in the eye. “You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to.”

“Fuck that,” I snap, feeling angry. Angry at the world, at fate, at how screwed up everything is. “I wanna watch you finish the job.”

“Alright, darling.” Felix grins, picking up a wicked-looking knife from a nearby table. “Just remember, you asked for this.”

As Felix moves towards the man, my heart pounds a brutal rhythm in my chest. And as the blade sinks into flesh, I can’t help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction. It’s fucked up, but maybe I might just like it.